


You are a Runner and I am My Father's Son

by charlotteschaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dark, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: Harry had hoped that he'd only see one war in his lifetime, but this new war was much more subtle--a war on liberty where the Ministry controls the choices of its citizens in order to protect them from The Muggle Threat.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Hex Files](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Hex_Files), which was closed for financial and health reasons.

Harry entered the facility, not entirely sure what he was in for. He looked behind him to see Hermione and Ron waving sadly at him. It was so early in the morning that it was still dark--their attempt to get Harry into the place before the Prophet could get the tip off that he was checking himself into X.

The growing problem with the new regime that had come into power since the fall of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, as far as Harry could see, was that the balance of power had gone completely to the other side. Well, perhaps not completely. It felt that way sometimes, but Muggles still didn't know about Wizards, and while no one was trying to enslave the Muggles or take over the world, Wizard pride had reached a fevered pitch.

It was as if the two sides met in the middle, and the compromise had become perverted and sour.

Purebloods were still pure, and for much of the Wizarding World, that hadn't changed. It seemed it never would. What had changed was the use of the term 'Mudblood' and how lax and open-minded the purebloods had become towards those with magical abilities, no matter their lineage. Magic folk were magic, no matter what. The Purebloods just didn't mix with them very often.

The movement had become even more 'us' against 'them,' meaning that 'us' was now anyone with magical blood, no matter its source, and 'them' were the Muggles. No matter what they tried to do, no matter how strong they were and were to become, there were always more of 'them' than there were of 'us.' As such, it became the popular notion to have as many children as one could. The future generations would need to grow and protect the next and the next and the next until there were enough of of 'us' to rival 'them.'

The problem was, not everyone wanted to have a litter of children. Not everyone wanted children at all.

Harry shook his head as he looked around the luxurious appointments in the X facility. He had three children of his own by Ginny Potter nee Weasley, but everyone thought he should have many more than that. He was a hero and a head Auror, after all. Though he'd never had any gender identity issues that anyone could ever identify, or come close to, he was shuffled into X by those who cared about him. There he would learn about the importance of having a big family and setting an example for the rest. He'd be reeducated as to what gender roles and family meant and how important it was for his very soul to keep having magical children.

X was located in the dungeons of a prominent castle that sat out on its own island. It was like a slightly warmer, better cared-for Azkaban. The allusion made Harry shiver as he signed his commitment papers, vowing not to self-abuse while he was there or to engage in any non-productive sex. The woman taking his paperwork spoke sweetly and said 'hem hem' a lot and wore far too much pink for his taste. She could've been Umbridge's clone, but was probably just her daughter. Thinking about the possibility of Delores Umbridge having sex would be enough to keep him soft for the entire three week commitment.

"Why are you smirking, Mr Potter?" asked the lady, her bow askew on top of her round head.

"Just so happy to be getting treatment," he said before dropping the quill and handing her back her forms.

"As you should be," she said, her voice probably music to a mouse's ears, but Harry just wanted to cover his. "Come on, then, let me show you to your room. You have a private room in the VIP suite. We ask that you respect the privacy of others in this suite as you wish them to respect your own. Not everyone needs to know of your..." she looked down at the front of Harry's trousers, making him wince, "Problem."

"I don't have a problem!" Harry protested as she let him into his room.

"As you say, but you must remember that no matter what it takes--we need you and the future needs you. We'll get it working again, Mr. Potter. Don't you worry," she said before she floated out of the room, leaving the door open.

Harry started towards the door when a pale pointy face with just a smidge of stubble poked around the corner and mouthed, "Little problem." He held up his thumb and forefinger in a ridiculously small measurement and then applied it to the front of his robes. Amused with his own joke, he chuckled as he walked away.

Malfoy. Wouldn't that just figure?

Harry shut the door to his room and flopped on the bed.

His belongings were already unpacked, folded, and put in their proper places. Times like these, he regretted the efficiency of magic. It would've been nice to have had something to do while he contemplated his situation. Of course, he knew what his problem was. He simply didn't want to have any more children. Secretly, he didn't think Ginny wanted to either. She had her own career to think about and the kids were finally of the age where they could be off at school for most of the year and she could reclaim her life. But he was the noisy one who said he didn't think that having children should be compulsory and so he was the one here. She'd kissed him and thanked him for his bravery and he'd smiled at her.

All that they'd been through together had settled into a warm companionship. They were long past the lusts of youth that drove them to having one another whenever the opportunity presented itself. They were adults now and great friends. A lot of love, but maybe not in love. They married so young and they had such long lives to go. Still, there was no one he would have rather have shared his life with up to this point and he loved his family as it was.

Though he hadn't made a very public entry into the X facility, he knew it was only a matter of time before the press picked up on where he was and began to speculate on why he was here. He would continue to tell everyone that having so many children wasn't right for everyone and that everyone should have a procreative choice whether they wanted to have one, none, or ten children. He had the whole speech planned out in his head and was rehearsing it over and over until Malfoy crept once again into his thoughts.

Malfoy. That was the last person he expected to see here, but the more he thought of it, the more it made sense. For generations Malfoys had only had one child. A single boy who would carry on the name of the family and rise up to take possession of the manor and the money. They were career politicians, or had been, before Lucius Malfoy's great and repeated falls from grace. Draco had kept to himself, other than a rather showy wedding and the week-long celebration of the birth of his son.

Since then, Harry could barely remember hearing about him, which was probably dangerous for everyone. It often meant that Malfoy was up to no good, though now he realized that Malfoy had just been here. Centuries of tradition in the face of the sudden trend in politics to procreate. Harry couldn't see Draco Malfoy being pushed into going against tradition and having kids just to get along. As much of a coward as some people believed him to be, Harry knew that when it came to his family, Malfoy would do anything it took to protect them.

Malfoy's wife, on the other hand... Harry didn't know the Greengrasses very well, but he could imagine that it was she who turned him in for being non-responsive to her requests. The system wasn't cruel. If you couldn't, you just couldn't, but everyone would know that Malfoys could, and the fact that they were not would definitely anger the current powers that be--dubiously reformed Death Eaters.

When the house-elf popped into his room to announce dinner, Harry followed into a large, grand hall in which only a handful of men sat before glorious dinners. No one seemed particularly interested in eating.

"There's too muth butter forth one," lisped one of the men. His hair was lanky and brown, his features aristocratic and sharp, but he was younger than Potter, who had no idea who he was.

"I miss my wife," groaned another. He stirred the meat pie glumly and then dropped his fork.

Malfoy looked up at Potter and watched him sit, a strange sort of smirk on his face as he took in everything Potter did. Malfoy sat tall and imperious, his napkin already on his lap, utensils perfectly spaced around his gleaming plate that didn't match anyone else's. "I only eat off of my own china," he said before Harry asked. He cut a small piece of meat from a fragile-looking leg. "Rabbit."

A kinder person might've offered to share, but this was Draco Malfoy and he didn't share. That was part of being a Malfoy, part of being an only child. There was no sharing, no compromise, no need for it. Malfoys were entitled little brats and that was the end of the story. Given Malfoy's presence here, he intended to keep it that way.

"It's the way I grew up, the way my father grew up, the way my father's father grew up. This is who we are, this is what we do. Call it a religion, call it a ritual, call it what you must, but we are Malfoys and we are older than the Ministry and I refuse to be governed by body or by practice," said Malfoy. A great speech delivered while expertly dissecting his rabbit. That is what being born a politician will get you. Even Potter wanted to believe in him.

"Long and hard has every great civilization fought for control of its people and long have every people fought for their own rights against the government will. Here is where the revolution starts, gentlemen. Here is where we take back our lives and push the Ministry back to where it belongs--herding the wayward sheep, not breeding more."

Potter watched him speak, the way that he could deliver such pronouncements whilst he ate, mouth around food, two chews and he spoke again. His cutlery never squeaked on his plate and his head never lowered to look down at his food. He knew where everything was by simple practice and feel.

Potter wasn't the only man looking at him. There were other men, eyes ablaze with lust. Malfoy regarded them icily, but smiled very slightly at Potter. "And I sense the time for revolution is near, as we seem to have imported our very own revolutionary."

"Who, me?" Potter's fork stopped between the plate and his mouth. He was not eating rabbit, but rather chicken. On stoneware. He felt like a pauper by comparison and found himself blushing from being noticed by Malfoy at the head of the table. What a crazy world it was that he wasn't disgusted by Malfoy's nancing. But then, what Malfoy said almost sounded like a compliment.

"Yes, you. Why are you here, Potter? You have three sprogs; that's the minimum, is it not?"

The other men at the table chuckled a little nervously. Harry looked at each one of them, spotting aristocrats with a cause from men who simply weren't attracted to women. He wondered if the other wing of this castle contained the same cast of characters, but female.

"They feel like a hero can and should do better than the minimum," said Potter. He picked up his goblet of wine and took a sip. Malfoy had tilted his head to eye him curiously. "They want me to have more, and frankly, I just don't want to. Our lives are good as they are. Maybe they're not perfect, but adding another child isn't going to make it so."

"You married a Weasley, didn't you?" asked Malfoy. He set down his wine after a sip and stared imperiously through Potter. He knew the answer. Everyone did. He wasn't sure why Malfoy wanted him to repeat it.

"Yes. Ginny," said Harry warily.

"The Weasleys never had issue with increasing their issue. I suppose you're the odd man out." Malfoy looked at him again, his smirk warming slightly. "But then, you were ever the odd man."

"I think it's wrong," said Harry, not rising to the bait. "Even if I wanted to have more children, I think it's wrong for it to be compulsory. Children should be a blessing, something you want in your life, people to be cherished. You have as many as you can take care of, not as many as you can to out-populate some other group. It's a family, not a contest."

The other men around the table clapped softly and Malfoy smiled, almost kindly if you ignored the coldness of his eyes. "So is that why you're here, Potter? Not as rehab but to join the revolution?"

Potter thought about it and then looked at all of the men at the table. Two of them were holding hands and gazed at each other for too long to be Just Friends. Finally, his eyes rested on Malfoy, who seemed to have insinuated himself in charge of these people. He nodded then, determined to give these people better lives and to allow them the freedom of choice for what they wanted to do with their own bodies and in their own homes.

"Consider me part of your revolution." 

 

Malfoy nodded and raised a glass, smiling sincerely for the first time Potter could remember.

 

\-- 

The next day began in hysteria. Harry had no idea how long he'd been asleep or how he'd gotten to bed, leading him to believe he'd been drugged. Staggering out of his room in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before, he caught Malfoy's fearful look at him before he registered who it was. If it was at all possible, he was paler than usual. After a beat, Harry found out why. 

"No! No! Don't make me!" 

"You must. This is your therapy. Aversion therapy." 

"No!" 

"Crucio!" 

It was a spell Harry hadn't heard since the war, and hoped that he would never hear again. He flinched against the screaming, but squared his shoulders, taking a few strides in the direction of the disturbance until Malfoy's hand stopped him. Harry reached for his wand and found it wasn't there. For a moment, he panicked, but then, he was an Auror and he would find a way. Brushing off Malfoy's hand from his shoulder, he charged for the door again. 

"Potter," said Malfoy, not with anger or even with fear. He sounded almost placid about it.

Harry didn't look back. Instead, he tried the door, feeling a cold prickle of magic crawling up his wrist. Undaunted, he stepped back and with a running start, slammed his shoulder against the door. 

The rebound threw him full-force towards the end of the hall. He thought for sure at this speed he was going to break something, but found himself cushioned, slowing down and gently let to the floor. When he looked up, he saw Malfoy, his hand outstretched, sweat sliding down his cheeks, matting some of his long, silvery hair to the side of his face. The morning light from a window made him glow.

"I forgot how angelic you could look when you weren't sneering," said Harry, gazing up at Malfoy as he dropped to his knees to check him out. 

"That's because when you were around, I was always sneering." Malfoy looked around him. He scooped Potter from the floor and took him into his room as another piercing scream cut the air. 

"You're not sneering now," Harry pointed out as Malfoy dumped him onto the bed. 

"Too busy wondering what kind of moron they've put in charge of the Aurors. What, exactly, was your plan there? You felt the spell. I know you did. You don't have a wand. Did you just want to start your aversion therapy early?" Malfoy backed away from him and leaned against the open doorway until there was another howl of pain. Then he shut the door and leaned against it. His face was creased with worry. 

"They're using Unforgivables in there, Malfoy! I don't care who they are, they are going to be arrested!" Potter said as he sat up on his bed, flexing his hands and making sure he was still put together properly.

 

"You don't get it, do you? This is a Ministry-sactioned 'recovery' unit. They're allowed to use whatever means they deem necessary to do what the Ministry thinks needs to be done." Malfoy should've been shouting, but he was oddly calm, his arms wrapped around himself. 

"And Aversion Therapy? What is that?" asked Harry. He didn't feel ready to stand up just yet; the shock of the blast was still tingling through his limbs. 

"That's Phineas and Edwin in there. You met them last night at dinner. They're... well... they enjoy each other's company. So in order to give them... oh what do they call it? A fighting chance to reverse the perverse desires that they encourage in each other... they've set them to torturing each other so that they'll have an aversion to one another." Malfoy shivered and closed his eyes. 

Harry was suddenly struck with the memory of a much younger Malfoy being forced to perform that curse on some faceless person, long forgotten. He wished he could remember who that screaming man was. He thought somehow it was important now. 

"And the Ministry condones this? Our Ministry?" asked Harry as he stood and shook off the memories. Whatever happened had happened long ago and there was no way to fix it. However, there were real people who needed their help. "I thought this was how Death Eaters..." 

Malfoy was staring intently into Harry's eyes and he could feel the soft caress of Malfoy's mind brushing his. He'd seen what Potter had been thinking about, what he'd been remembering. He set his jaw. "That was merely punishment. It took YOUR side, YOUR Ministry, to start administering it as treatment." 

Harry flushed and looked down. "That's not the point. None of it's the point. We have to save them. What was that you did before? With your hand? Can you do wandless magic, Malfoy?" 

"Not really," said Malfoy. He sighed and shrugged. "I just know cushioning spells like that. Scorpius was a climber. He was falling from the second story and I didn't have my wand. I don't know how I did it. I can't do anything else with it. It just shows up out of panic." 

"You were panicked about me?" asked Harry, smiling. Malfoy rolled his eyes. 

"Don't get all excited. You're part of the revolution now. Just because most of the men in here are getting aversion therapy doesn't mean all of us want to drop the soap, Potter." 

"I have three kids!" said Harry. In spite of himself, he was blushing at the insinuation. He thought he caught a hint of pink on Malfoy's cheeks as well. 

"I think you've had enough experience with a youthful Malfoy to understand that one is more than enough of a handful for a family, let alone letting loose a litter onto a school."

 

"Fair enough." Harry smiled and tried to catch Malfoy's eye for a smile back, but instead, Malfoy had turned around and opened the door. 

Phineas and Edwin were being dragged back to their rooms by the blue-robed healing assistants. Malfoy leaned against the door frame, waiting to see who would come out, who the main instigator was. Harry stepped in behind him to peer over his shoulder. 

The man who came out was tall and thin, his silvery hair cascaded down his back. He wore all black, making him look like a vicar. "It is good to see you're making new friends, Draco," came the familiar, stony drawl. 

"For a boy like me, making friends is easy." 

Lucius Malfoy smiled in his insincere way and he stepped forward, offering his hand to Harry. Draco attempted to step between them, but Harry moved faster and took Luicus's hand, holding it tightly as if they could win this battle of wills by squeezing it out of each other's grip. 

"Pleased to see you here, Potter," Lucius drawled. 

"I was summoned," said Harry. He looked over his shoulder at Draco behind him. "Did you summon your own son? I thought you Malfoys had traditions." 

Lucius squeezed Harry's hand even harder. Harry responded by tightening his own grip. "There are times for new traditions and there will need to be many more Malfoys to carry on what is to come. He was the last in the line of Malfoys and Blacks. Two great family lines to be lost to the ages unless he complies." 

"And what about what he wants?" asked Harry. He tightened his grip until he heard something in Lucius's hand pop. At once, Lucius's grip slackened and he pulled his hand away, hiding it behind his back. Harry sneered. 

"He should want a better world for his son and his son's sons to grow up in," said Lucius. 

"I want nothing but for my son to have his own choices in his life, whether he wants to have one heir, one hundred, or none. It's his life," said Draco. "I want him to have whatever he wants." 

"And if we let the Muggles overrun us, what will he have to look forward to but burning times?" snapped Lucius. 

"It's been centuries! And the bigger our group gets, the more noticeable that we become, the more mistakes we could make. Gaining in numbers will simply force the war," Draco shouted. Harry only saw a flash of Lucius's wand, didn't even hear the spell but in an instant, Draco was on the floor, shrieking in pain and terror. 

"Enough," said Lucius, standing over his son, his wand pointed at his heart. "You will comply. You're simply sick. We will cure you, my boy. That much I promise you." 

Lucius pointed his wand in Harry's face and said, "And if you know what's good for you, you won't encourage him. He has too much of his mother in him. Too rebellious. Any encouragement on your part will only make it worse for him and your family." 

Harry reached for the wand to take it from him, but Lucius yanked it away too quickly. He turned to leave and Harry dropped to his knees next to the floor where Draco had landed. He was curled in the fetal position, the last of the spell twitching out of his body until he was nothing but a quivering heap. 

Gently, Harry brushed the hair back from Malfoy's face, expecting to see fear or pain in his expression. Instead, Malfoy's eyelids fluttered shut, and his eyes rolled back before he went completely limp.

 

\-- 

"Potter? What are you doing in my room?" Draco was sitting up on his elbows looking down at Harry who was sacked out on a chair at the end of his bed. 

Harry stretched and yawned, sitting up before he answered. "You passed out. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." He cracked his neck and smiled down at him. "You were brave with your father." 

"Yeah, that's pretty comforting right about now," said Draco as he rubbed his temples. "Everything in my body hurts, but hey, at least Potter thinks I'm brave." 

"That's not how I meant it, you prat," said Harry. He opened the door and nodded to one of the nurses to bring him some potions for the pain. "You just seem more grown up, is all." 

"Well I did get older. Got married. Had a kid," said Draco. He snatched the smoking potion from the woman's tray and swigged it down with no ceremony. "What did you think, that I'd still be running around shining up my Inquisitor badge?" 

"Yeah. I kinda did," said Harry. The Healer was looking curiously between them. Knowing what she was probably thinking made Harry blush. Draco made a face, but said nothing. 

"Would serve my father right if he thought he'd turned me into a shirtlifter here and that the first person I ran to was the Chosen One." For a moment, Draco held the flask up, as though he was about to fling it against the door that the Healer shut behind her. Instead he just set it on the medical table beside him. 

"So that means you're not one?" asked Harry. He shoved his hands into his pockets, not entirely sure why he was asking or what he was getting at. 

"Oh, you know... I guess everyone experiments a little in an all-boys dorm room, but nothing..." 

"What?" asked Harry, his eyes wide. "Experimenting? Everyone?"

 

"Okay, perhaps not everyone," said Draco, smirking a little as he sat back against the cushions. "The point is... what is the point? Doesn't matter, really. People are probably going to make assumptions because why else would a Slytherin and a Gryffindor watch each other's backs?" He cleared his throat and waggled his brows before adding, "So to speak."

Harry couldn't think about that right now. All he could think about was that evidently everyone at Hogwarts was having more fun than he ever had. "So why didn't they ask me to join in? Am I not hot enough? I mean, okay maybe I can see why Seamus... but how could I not be hot enough for Neville? And Ron! I was his best mate! If anyone was going to help someone out in that room...."

"Oh I don't know, Potter. Maybe they thought you had a couple of other things on your mind? Maybe they thought Sirius Black was giving it to you. I really have no idea what goes on in the mind of the adolescent Gryffindor," said Draco. He was trying to appear serious, but his lips kept curling up at the edges, particularly when Harry stared at him incredulously.

"Sirius?!?! Why would you think that about Sirius?" Harry flailed.

"Well he was awfully close to your father. And he'd been in prison for such a long time..."

"All right, stop. Just stop. Forget I brought it up," said Harry as he waved at Draco who was snickering at him.

"You don't want to know about Sirius Black and your father?" asked Draco, brow perked.

"He wasn't a shirtlifter! He was with my mum! They were just friends! Argh, why must you pervert everything?" Harry asked. But even as he said it, he couldn't help but wonder. It wasn't as if he had clear stories on what his father was like.

"And it was the 70's," said Draco, as if he were reading Harry's mind. He may well have been as far as Harry knew. He'd been too emotional to shut him out. "Sexual revolution and all of that. Like I said, it wasn't that uncommon at Hogwarts. I don't think it's that uncommon at boarding schools in general. Ever wonder why Granger and Ginny were so close?"

"Hey!" said Harry. 

Draco laughed. "It's ancient history, Potter. Kids stuff. If you get all shirty with her about it now, she'll think you've gone mad."

"It's not true!" said Harry. Not that he knew that for a fact, but he couldn't imagine Hermione going in for such a thing. Ginny... well... she was adventurous.... "Look, if you're just going to be weird I'm going to leave."

"I didn't ask you to watch me sleep like a creepy stalker in the first place," said Draco. He pulled his covers tighter against him as if he thought Harry was going to try something. The notion almost made Harry laugh.

"Fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, backing towards the door.

"I'm fine, Potter. I'm my father's son, it's not the first time he's hexed me. If you want to check on someone, go see Edwin. He didn't look so good," said Draco.

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fine!"


	2. Part 2

"Harry, you don't have to do this," whispered Ginny from across the table. She looked around the room, at the Malfoy family having the same conversation. The thought froze her and she quietly prayed that they weren't having the exact same conversation. Her family never had much love for the Malfoys, but she wouldn't wish what had happened to her on anyone.

"I'm not going to put you through... it was hard enough on you. I can ride this out, Ginny," said Harry. He scooted his chair closer to hers. It was a heterosexual encounter and was therefore allowable. She clung to him and buried her face against his neck. "But this is horrible. You having to be kept so far away. It isn't your fault. It's my fault. You didn't do anything wrong!"

"Neither did you," Harry whispered into Ginny's ear. "It was an accident. Sometimes these things happen and we have all of the family we need. I don't feel shorted. Not in the least. Do you?"

She shook her head against Harry's chest. "I'm glad for them. I didn't really want anymore. I just... didn't want it to be... a choice I couldn't make."

"Nobody likes having to make choices they don't want to have to make. Yours was... there was no preventing it, Ginny. Sometimes things go wrong in the delivery room. I will not have some parchment pusher make you feel any less worthy a person for that. And besides, there are others here that aren't able to make their own decisions. This is wrong. And the methods they use here are wrong. Treasonous. They're using Unforgivables!"

"So file a report or something, Harry. come home to me. You don't have to be here with these perverts." She pulled away from him enough to look into his eyes to see the disappointment there.

"Oh is that what they are, perverts? Is that what Dumbledore was? A pervert? He just found someone he loved, someone he cared about. He didn't ask for it to be a man any more than he asked for it to be a dark wizard. People love who they love, Ginny. You of all people know that by now," said Harry. He kept her gaze until she was too ashamed to meet it.

She sobbed once and then nodded and agreed that he was right. She hadn't meant to call Dumbledore a pervert. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry. I am. I just... I want you to come home. I haven't meant to be so cold to you since we lost... him... but I'll try, I really will try. And if they're using Unforgivables here... I just won't... I can't sleep at night worrying about you."

Harry cradled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I need you to be brave for me, Ginny. You're a brave girl. That's why you were the only one for me, yeah?"

Ginny sighed and slumped into his arms. "And you were the only one for me because you wouldn't be able to sit idly by while something like this happened." Smiling, Harry pulled back enough to kiss her forehead.

"So you understand."

"I think you're mental to want to stay here, but..." she said, drying her uncharacteristic tears on the sleeves of her robes. "I do understand. But so help me if they do something to you, if they hurt you in any way..." Ginny's voice trailed off as she thought about what she'd do. "I'll tell Hermione."

Under normal circumstances, that response wouldn't have surprised Harry in the least. Since Draco had said what he'd said there was a new spin to it.

"What's that look for? You know she'll see to it and has the power to do so," said Ginny. The bell to end the visits had rung and she was standing up to give her husband a tight hug.

"Yeah... I know," said Harry slowly, weighing his words to make sure he meant them. If he was giving permission, he wanted to be sure that he was being clear. And if he wasn't, well, she'd just think he was a little strange. "You go to Hermione with whatever you need, Ginny. What. Ever. You. Need."

She smiled and kissed him and was herded towards the door. Ginny shot him an odd look and then she looked over at Draco, his wife a few steps ahead of him. Back to Harry she said slowly, "What. Ever. You. Need."

\--

The screaming had caused Harry and Draco to abandon their game of Wizard's chess in Harry's room. The table stood forlorn with the pieces milling around looking at each other blankly. Harry sat at the table, watching the pieces, straining to hear anything that might be going on outside of his room.

Just moments ago the usual screaming that came with Lucius's "treatment" was followed by a mournful wail. Both Harry and Draco abandoned their game to run out into the hall to see what was going on. What they found was Lucius looming over Phineas, who was short even at his full height. Phineas was defiant, wailing, "You killed him. You KILLED him!"

Lucius blanched and then his face turned beet red. He brought his wand up in the characteristic swoop of landing a permanent end to Phineas when Draco leapt between them, grabbing his father's wand, but falling short of breaking it.

Whirling away, Lucius maintained control of his wand, but now stood with his wand poised at his only son. That flagged his enthusiasm and just as Harry had watched Draco's wand dip before Dumbledore, so Lucius's wand faltered when pointed at his son.

"Move," said Lucius, his steely determination waning by the second.

"No." Draco stood tall, arms behind him as he tried to contain Phineas behind him. With Draco's bold move, the other healers and assistants seemed to wake up and dove for Phineas, dragging him to his room as he howled, "Murderer!"

"What did you do?" Harry shouted.

Lucius seemed more confident in pointing his wand at Harry, and his eyes narrowed. "I don't have to answer to you, Potter."

"Who do you answer to?" Harry asked, taking a step forward to show he wasn't intimidated. This wasn't the first wand pointed at him, and certainly not the first time Lucius Malfoy had threatened to him.

"I answer to no one. What I am doing benefits all of Wizard-kind. My therapies help confused witches and wizards orient themselves to a normal, productive sexuality. What I do is for the good of us all," said Lucius, standing straighter as he spoke, seeming to gain in confidence.

"And you imprisoned your own son?" asked Harry. By then, Draco had begun to insinuate himself between Harry and Lucius, slowly sliding into place so that Lucius's wand was pointing at his chest. They were all close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces.

"I would never," said Lucius.

"But he's..." started Harry as Draco started backing him towards his room.

"I turned myself in," said Draco softly.

"Why?" asked Harry, but he knew the answer. For the same reason he'd allowed himself to be taken into custody. Protest.

But instead of giving the answer that Harry knew was true, Draco said, "Because I'm a big queer."

"Hush, Draco!" said Lucius. He raised his free hand and brought it down hard across Draco's cheek.

"You know it's true. You walked in on it, didn't you?"

"There is a difference between youthful exuberance and experimentation. You were a confused boy. You had a lot of pressure on you. No one blames you, Draco. I was arrested during a key time in your adolescence. No one knows better what it takes to repair the damage that does to a boy than I do. Look how you turned out. You're married and you have an heir. All that we ask is that you continue to..." said Lucius.

Draco shoved him back hard and then threw Harry into his room and slammed the door. A spell hit the door just after, sealing Lucius and Draco in the room together. Harry tried everything he could to pry open the door, even trying to concentrate on wandless magic, but it wouldn't budge. The shouting on the other side of the door died out and things had grown eerily silent.

They had been that way for a couple of hours. Harry was sick with worry. He thought he might lose his mind when finally the heavy door creaked open and Draco entered the room.

His lips were as red and puffy as his eyes, as if he'd been snogging someone while crying. Harry tried the bury the irrational jealousy that stirred in him, instead focusing on what Draco was about to say.

"It was an accident," said Draco quietly.

"What, you just tripped and snogged... someone?" Harry snapped.

Draco shot him a surprised and mortified look and then wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. "Um. No. Edwin. Aversion therapy. Phineas... they pushed him so hard and he just... snapped. It's not his fault, but it's... he was holding the wand."

"Are they charging him? I'll testify. They can't..." said Harry. He'd jumped up, knocking over the chess set. The pieces scampered away to hide under the bed.

"What would you testify to?You weren't there. Anyway... I don't know. I don't know what they're going to do. Edwin didn't really have any family that would claim him. Phineas was all he had. And Phineas... he..." said Draco. His face was pale, making his puffy lips stand out that much more, making what he'd done unavoidable.

Harry's mind kept circling back to Draco calling himself a big queer. He wondered what Lucius had walked in on and what Draco had done to comfort Phineas. The thoughts stole his breath with anxious anger that he knew he had no right to. "And he let you blow him?"

Draco looked as stricken as he had when his father had slapped him. His lips parted as he took a couple of long, slow breaths, his eyes watering. All at once, his hand was up behind his head, coming in for a hard swing that Harry knew he deserved. Closing his eyes, Harry steeled himself to recieve the blow. Instead, he felt the soft caress of Draco's fingers sliding over his cheek, thumb brushing over his lips.

Harry opened his eyes just in time to see Draco leaning in. He tilted his head to the other side and just let it happen. Lips to lips, his jaw slackened and soon he felt the warm silk of tongue and comforting arms around him. Draco felt so frail, so much smaller than he had appeared. His arms were bird-like and Harry could feel the hard jut of bone against his chest. He felt so different than Ginny, but no less right. His whiskers scratched slightly and his movements were more demanding, more commanding. He was not a meek kisser, he grabbed the back of Harry's neck as the kisses intensified and Harry walked them back to the bed, pulling Draco on top of him.

"I just held him," Draco whispered into Harry's ear. "I held him and kissed him and told him it would be all right."

"Will it be all right?" Harry asked against Draco's lips.

"I don't know."

That was the truth, but Harry couldn't help but wishing that he had lied to him, told him that everything was going to be fine. Still, in Draco's bony arms, smelling the mixed basil leaf smell of him, all he could do was surrender to it.

 

Harry should've been charging the halls, demanding justice. Draco should've been summoning his followers to the side to deploy a skillful military plan. Instead, they were standing in the middle of Draco's sick room with no way out. Maybe Harry should've suggested chess, but as soon as Draco's long, elegant fingers slid over the front of his robes, he thought perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. They didn't have to have sex. Harry couldn't do that, not while he was married to Ginny.

 

Draco was married too, but his marriage seemed more mercenary as he was already slipping his hand between Harry's robes, dipping two fingers under his waistband.

 

Harry arched his back not to avoid the touch, but because Draco's hands were so cold. They walked back to Draco's room, which was well appointed for a government facility, though Harry suspected that Draco brought a lot of the silver and and rhino horn from home.

 

They lay together on the ground, stretched out over an Ice Bear rug, side by side, each head resting behind the bear's ears.

 

"You first," said Draco as he extricated his hand from Harry's pants. Draco fondled the front of his trousers a few times, Harry's hips tilting up so that he could get as much touch from it as he could. He moaned softly at first, like a tired baby. His other hand he laid beside him, palm upturned.

 

Taking the hint, Harry took Draco's hand and entwined their fingers. Then slowly, precisely, Harry started to pull off of his clothes, trying not to get too excited. It would be just like Malfoy to get him all wound up for nothing.

 

But then, they kissed. A real kiss. With tongue.

 

Down to his skivvies, Draco lowered himself to the floor again, rolling on top of the ice bear rug. The story of how they ended up with one of those as a pelt wasn't spoken of. Harry was proud it must not have gone down without a fight.

 

They lay awkwardly next to each other on the white fur. Again Draco looked like the stars and moons and Harry looked like... well, he looked like himself.

 

Draco was the first to allow his hand to wander out to stroke in long ovals between Harry's legs. He teased and teased his thighs, absentmindedly stroking his balls. He stared at Harry as if he'd never seen anything quite so beautiful as this. Then he looked up into Harry's eyes and Harry rolled over on top of him.

 

There on the hardwood floor with the bearskin rug on seemed to be the best place for making mischief. No squeaking springs to give them away. No questions. As far as anyone knew, he had plans that must involve an inappropriate use of a bear rug. In front of the fire.

 

When Harry tentatively touched Draco's thigh, it opened to him, making his leg jut out at an angle. When Harry touched him, his leg dropped and folded open, revealing everything that Harry wanted to see. He licked a finger and slowly pushed it into Draco.

 

Draco covered his own mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle his moans. Secretly, Harry was glad of this. As much as he wanted to hear what this did to Draco, he wasn't sure how they'd explain it.

 

Easily sliding in a second, and then third finger, Harry could tell that he wasn't the first person to fingerfuck Draco Malfoy. He wondered if he'd be the last. Draco bucked aggressively onto his fingers, obviously wanting more of him and trying to help shift Harry's fingers where he wanted them. Harry concentrated, breaking a slight sweat as he tried to reach a spot inside of Draco that he'd only ever read about in a liberal Wizard's magazine.

 

That spot.

That one place where everything makes sense because it no longer hurts. It was supposed to feel exquisite and he watched Draco's face as his eyes rolled back and he chased sensation--chased it as hard and fast as he could.

 

Harry left long kisses down Draco's throat, dragging his teeth over the soft skin, wondering what it would be like to suck Draco's cock. He moved down slowly, flicking his tongue around Draco's nipple, keeping his fingers engaged. Draco was moaning through his mouth, the sound still muted but Harry thought surely everyone could hear it.

Not that it was deterring him. The more of Draco's skin he kissed, the more he craved it and he found his mouth watering to have Draco's cock in it. At first, Harry licked it, trying out the salty nothing taste of flesh. Draco threw his arm over his face, his mouth buried in the crook of his elbow.

 

Opening his mouth, Harry took the head and swirled his tongue around the slit. Draco brought both of his hands over his face, pushing the fists over his mouth as he moaned.

Harry grew ambitious with this reaction and he wanted to watch Draco's resolve, his princeliness, his aristocratic manner completely dissolve. Though he felt clumsy in the attempt, Harry sucked down more of Draco's cock, gagging on it. His eyes watered and throat stung from the attempts, but it was worth it to see Draco finally pull his arm away from his face to stare pie-eyed at what Harry was doing.

It could've just been Harry's imagination, but he was pretty sure that Draco looked smug each time he gagged and had to stop sucking Draco's cock to regain his composure.

"Look at me," Draco whispered.

His legs were sprawled away from his body like a broken sex toy. It was obscene to watch his fingers vanishing inside of Draco, the skin around his fingers red-white with the stress of taking him.

Draco seemed to get as turned on by Harry looking at his opening as he did from being sucked off. Draco whispered, "More."

Harry didn't have to be asked twice. Draco whispered a spell and his hand was slick when he reached for Harry's prick and pressed the head of it to his opening.

Harry pushed roughly into Draco, forcing out a guttural, pained moan. It sounded like each thrust was causing Draco greater pain until he was folded over completely on his back, his legs up and wrapped around Harry's shoulders. It was obvious that Draco needed to come and Harry blushed slightly that he hadn't grabbed Draco's cock before he grabbed it himself.

Watching for a few stunned seconds, Harry forgot to breathe, let alone move.

"Potter, I need to come," Draco whispered, his eyes tinged with flickers of silver and need.

"Me too," Harry managed before kissing Draco hard and thrusting into him again, each thrust warm, tight, and perfect if not a bit dryer than he was used to. He wrapped his hands around Draco's scalp, cradling his head between his palms for leverage as he pushed into him again and again and again, not even thinking about what it might sound like outside of their room.

Harry was lost in bliss when he felt the warm splat of come hit his belly and chest. He looked down in surprise to see Draco milking his cock of come. Just the sight of it pushed Harry over the edge. Toes clenched and body straining, Harry came inside of him, cursing under his breath at how good it felt and how much he needed it.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, squeezing him tightly before all of the tension left his body and his arms dropped in contented relief. "I needed that, too," Draco said, his sleepy eyes smiling.

 

In that holding cell, Harry felt the peace and safety he'd craved his entire life. Finally, something really felt right.

 

\--

 

In the few moments before dreaming became waking, Harry was suddenly aware of the absence of Draco's head on his chest. The lack of warmth made him shiver and shift restlessly for the blanket he'd pulled from the bed. Finding that he was touching bed and not polar bear fur, Harry realized that he had been moving while he slept. Harry had just started to open his eyes when what felt like bucket of cold water hit him on the face and the chest. He sat up, sputtering out of habit, only to find that not a drop of water had hit him.

When he looked up, it was Draco's cold eyes he saw first. Then the wand in his hand--how it trembled in spite of Draco's steely concentrated expression. He was naked, pale skin glimmering in the light of the rising sun, making his lithe body glow. Gold flecks of light flickered and danced over the crown of his head.

"Aversion Therapy, my son," Lucius rasped. He had his hand on Draco's back. Lucius didn't appear to find it at all odd to be in the presence of his naked son. Draco's lips were still bright red from kissing and Harry noted with satisfaction the stubble burn on Draco's cheek.

"You know what to do, Draco." Lucius slid his hand under Draco's to raise his wand to Harry's face.

"You are on the bed for comfort, Potter. It is not our intent to kill you so much as burn out the cancer that makes you think that expressing yourself in these wrong and sick ways is appropriate," said Lucius, his voice louder in judgement.

"Is that what you believe, Draco?" Harry asked, sitting up enough that Draco's wand was pointed right at his heart. Draco twisted it into Harry's skin, but said nothing, his expression darkening.

"What we are doing here is for the safety of our people. We must protect ourselves and the common good. We are the shining city on the hill to those Muggles. They see us up there and they want to become us. And when they can't... they will be frustrated and we will have reason to defend ourselves. That is why we must to keep the bloodlines of the magic folk strong, pure, and fruitful. Future generations are going to have to fight their way out of mess that fool Dumbledore made. What stands in our way are people like you. People too selfish to put aside their daily conveniences, to put aside these sickening yearnings. You've broken your social contact with your kind and for that, you must be retrained." Lucius smiled at them both and released Draco's hand, believing him full enough of rhetoric now that there was no way that Draco would disobey him.

With the tip of the wand, Draco traced the side of Harry's bright green eyes, along the curve of his ear and down the long stretch of Harry's neck until Harry squirmed from the ticklishness of the touching. "We're sick, Harry. That's all it is. A sickness. My father is right. We have to seek out a cure, or we'll succumb to the power and might of the Muggles."

"But Draco!" Harry protested, sitting up. He couldn't believe that Draco had turned his back on his own cause like this. Then again, he was a Slytherin and his father's son. What would he have done if his own father had led him down a path like this? "They're just Muggles. They don't have magic! They couldn't possibly hurt us as much as we could hurt them if it came to that!"

"They have their own kinds of magic, Potter," Lucius sneered. "They have their aeroplanes and electricity. Even now there's abberations that give Muggleborns magic. How are we to know that they won't use those magical folk to fight us in the future?"

"We can't know the future!" Harry said, staring intently at Draco. "But we can't live in fear. We can't behave like this to one another. It makes us less than them, less than the evil we're facing."

"He is defiant! Hit him, Draco, my son. My first and only born," Lucius bellowed.

Draco's wand snapped back and curled around, in the familiar dance of the Cruciatus curse. He pointed the tip of his wand at Harry, who screamed in anticipation. But with a flick of his wrist, the spell cast to his father.

Lucius shrieked as he hit the floor, the surrounding nurses and healers took a step back. It was too late, though. Draco's free hand cast a wide net--fingers spread as he toppled them over with wandless magic. Harry wondered if possession of the Elder wand might've had something to do with this extension of power, but the stray thought was wiped away as he felt the pull of his body to his feet.

"Quick, you have to go," said Draco. His hand holding his wand trembled and Harry noticed that he was sweating profusely. Draco threw a robe at Harry. "Go. Go now!"

"Right. Come on," said Harry. He grabbed Draco's extended arm and dragged him to the door.

Draco resisted, twisting his arm to release it from Harry's grip.

"What are you doing? Come on!" Harry shouted. Lucius was groaning and starting to roll over onto his stomach. Any moment now he would master himself and be on his feet. Harry had to get them out of there now.

"No. I can't. I'm staying. You go," said Draco.

"What? I can't go without you!" Harry said, grasping for Draco. "I don't have a wand!"

Draco looked warily behind him at his father and the sighed and took a step forward to place his wand into Harry's hand. "There. Now go."

"I don't understand!" said Harry. He trained the wand on Draco, then on Lucius and finally to the mass of people who were standing around him. None of them looked interested in doing much about the situation other than to get out alive. He waved his wand and they all stepped back again.

Only Lucius was pushing determinedly to his feet. Harry struck him down with a light spell.

"Come on, Draco!"

"I can't. I can't... if he loses two prisoners... I don't know what would happen to him. But just one... just letting Harry Potter out might be considered an act of misguided kindness." Draco stared at Harry, his silver eyes dull with what had gone on before and what was yet to come.

Harry stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. After all Draco's father had done to Draco, to his friends, after all that happened, Draco didn't really want his father harmed. It surprised Harry, as he didn't think that forgiveness was part of being a Slytherin. But then, Draco had always been protective of his family. He made one last, weak grab for Draco's arm to drag him with him, but he knew that he'd be dodged, and even if he did get a hold of him, Draco would go back. Harry knew this because it's what he would've done for his family and when it came to families, he didn't think he and Draco were that different at all.

His hand met Draco's arm and Harry yanked him closer. Draco looked as if he expected to be hexed, but instead, he got a warm, wet kiss. Their tongues mingled slowly at first, but rapidly with more ferociousness than they knew how to handle. Harry squeezed Draco's arse and Draco pulled him closer, lining up their lengths so that they could feel the brush of each other sliding together.

"Don't forget me," Draco whispered against Harry's lips.

"This isn't goodbye, Draco. I'll come back for you. I'll fix all of this and come back for you."

Draco smiled and took a step back. His grin turned to a sneer with a fractional movement of his lips and he rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, hero."

Harry wanted to make one last stab at dragging Draco with him, but before he could say or do anything, he saw Draco's hand spread wide, just inches from his chest. It felt like he was Apparating, which was, he found, exactly what he was doing when he looked up and saw the front of his house. Ginny was already running out, her wand drawn and eyes wild.

"Harry! Harry, how did you get here?"

Harry pushed himself to his feet. He didn't remember falling, but then, the past few minutes had been so sudden and intense, falling over would seem inconsequential.

"Whose wand is that? Why are you--?" she said, grabbing his arm to drag him inside. "You weren't released. I would've known. What happened, Harry, what happened?"

Following her in, Harry tried to come up with answers to her questions, but it was all just coming too fast for him to follow. Without answering, he went up the stairs and into the shower to clean up.

"Harry!" she said, standing there, watching him through the curtain. "Did they take your tongue? What is going on?"

Finally, once the warm water roused Harry's bearings, he said, "Bring me a shot of firewhiskey and meet me on the couch. I have a lot of things to tell you and you're not going to be happy with all of them, but I know that you'll want to help."

She opened her mouth to protest, but years of knowing Harry was enough to close it. He would tell her everything in his own time. She knew that. It was irritating, but she knew it. If there were any immediate danger, he would've told her that, too. "I trust you," she said, giving him a meaningful look before she left the bathroom.


	3. Part 3

Harry was glad that the kids were safely tucked away at Hogwarts. He couldn't have said all that he said to Ginny there in their living  
room if he'd thought that they could've heard a word of it. 

He told her everything, from the counter movement of the 'breeding program' to fucking Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened with new revelations, but she nodded, never looking angry so much as surprised and sympathetic. 

"And he sent you here," she said after Harry had been quiet a few minutes. She stared into the fire and then finally back to him.

"It is my home," said Harry. He shrugged and poured himself another firewhiskey. 

"No, it's not that, it's... he's a Slytherin. It wouldn't be so simple as that," said Ginny, she looked at Harry then, eyes narrowed slightly as she mulled it over.

"Maybe he just thinks I should go back to my wife?" Harry sipped the whiskey, feeling the burn again. The expression on Ginny's face made him stop. "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him curiously. "For what?"

Harry didn't think he needed to repeat for what, though he knew he probably should. That was just the way women worked. He looked down. "The thing... I did... with... him."

Ginny waved it away and rolled her eyes. "We'll get to that, Harry. Believe me, we'll get to that." She shook her head and then seemed to come to a conclusion. "I think that something needs to be written about this. Names need to be taken. There needs to be a story about it. He sent you back to me because I work for the Prophet."

"Maybe he knew you'd keep me safe?" Harry offered. "I mean, you're a sports editor..."

She shot him a sour look. "Doesn't mean I'm not a journalist. Doesn't mean I can't write what I want. Our readers respect me."

"But who's going to want to hear a sportscaster's opinion on politics?" Harry said. He could've slapped himself for saying such a stupid thing.

"Look. I'm going to write about it. This story needs to get out. That man cannot have died in vain." 

And that was it. Ginny stood up and shot him a look and then said, "I believe you know where the guest room is, Harry. You look like you could use a rest. I'll be back in a few hours."

With that, she was gone to the Prophet. Harry knew he should probably follow and try to talk her out of it, but he knew even if he did, it would do no good. Being sent to the guest room was a blow, but he couldn't fault her for that. He didn't know where they stood, but he wasn't sure it mattered right now. Maybe it didn't matter anymore. Maybe it hadn't mattered for a very long time. 

Staying in the relationship with Ginny had been the easiest thing in the world. They knew each other so well, agreed on most things. Perhaps it wasn't as fiery as some relationships, but it was happy. Still, he could see the way Ginny's eyes lingered over flat space. He heard the way she talked about "if she had to do it all again" and putting herself in the role of a woman who lived alone for a few more years to really learn herself. As it was, she'd gone from a big family, to a big Quidditch team on tour and finally to marriage. He could see her restless spirit, her wanderlust, and he felt it too. Sometimes. But then, he knew what alone felt like and he didn't have the urge to revisit it.

Maybe he'd just given her an excuse to be free and maybe he'd needed a reason to do it--to let her go. He knew now that if she asked, no matter how painful it might be to be alone or let her go, that he loved her too much not to let her have it. 

The realization took a lot out of him and so he dragged himself up the stairs to the guest bedroom and fell asleep on top of the covers.

\--

The next morning, first edition of The Daily Prophet came with a story about The X Facility, written by Sports Editor Ginny Potter. Some of it was editorialized, but that seemed to be the way of the Prophet. 

Harry read it, finding his own words in print reading, "We are becoming what we seek to destroy. We ARE the angry mob that wants to rule by fight and not by enlightenment and understanding. We are our own worst terrorists, worse than any of those Muggles who tried to burn us could ever be. Muggles aren't capable of containing us in ways that we can contain ourselves. They are no match for us and yet in our fear of them, we have allowed our liberties to be taken away. We are strangled by the Ministry who tells us how many kids to have, what jobs to have, who says its trying to protect us when really it just wants to control us. We have been snakecharmed to abandon our liberties, our lives. We are defeated by a foe who doesn't even know it's fighting us in order to give control to those who don't really care about us, but merely want power. It is wrong and it must stop now."

Harry stared at the words, pretty sure that it was somewhere in the rant he'd said when he talked to Ginny, but seeing the words before him like that made him blanch. He sounded like a revolutionary. It wouldn't be the first time he was public enemy number one, but he worried for his children and his wife. She hadn't come home, but he wasn't sure it was because of the inflammatory piece so much as her needing some time to think through what they'd talked about. It was admittedly a lot to lay on her.

Sitting up, Harry decided he should at least send an owl. She didn't have to reply to it other than to let him know that she was all right. Halfway to the kitchen table with a piece of parchment, the Floo flared emerald sparks. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Narcissa and Scorpius Malfoy standing imperiously in his living area. Scorpious took the place in with one raised brow, but Narcissa keyed in on Harry, her eyes never moved beyond him.

"Get your things," she said as Scorpius turned on his heel and sauntered towards the kids bedrooms as if he already knew the layout of the house. "It's going to be an exciting night, and we Malfoys have the means to bear these sorts of nights out."

Harry wanted to ask her why she was helping, but left it. She had come through in a pinch for him before and he knew that she would stop at nothing to preserve her son's safety. Throwing together a few necessities, he followed the Malfoys through the Floo, leaving behind the pounding on his front door.

Scorpius was clutching a stuffed snake. For Albus, no doubt. He remembered how scared Albus been that he would end up in Slytherin, but somehow the hat must've talked him into it. Scorpius was his partner in crime. From had he heard of their adventures, it sounded like they were excellent at finding trouble and even better at getting away with it. Their antics reminded him not unpleasantly of James and Sirius two generations before them. Not that they'd appreciate the comparison to Gryffindors.

"Your wife's here already," said Narcissa. "I got a tip that something incendiary regarding my son and husband and their little...disagreement... was coming out and I thought it best to bring you all to the Manor before some unsavory types showed up at your door."

Harry wasn't sure how much more unsavory you could get outside of the Malfoys, but held his tongue. Deep down, he knew that for all of her misguided politics, Narcissa loved her son.

"Take the second floor, west wing," Narcissa said on arriving in the Manor. It was just as Harry remembered it, though the chandelier had been repaired. 

House elves gathered to collect bags and show them to their cells. Rooms. Right.

Lying back on the insanely comfortable bed, Harry just lay there,eyes closed as he tried to figure out if this was prison or just a stopover before Lucius showed up to really commit him. He'd followed her without thinking, and now he sat here in the dead silence, having a whole wing to himself. He didn't hear his wife or his children, though surely Scorpius wasn't stealing Albus's toys. He covered his face with his hands, trying to decide who he should trust or not trust. Was he being paranoid? Perhaps so, but these were Malfoys and you never knew quite where you stood.

He pictured Lucius walking through the door, wand out, calling him a trespasser and killing him on sight, with every right to given the home safety laws as they were these days. Maybe Scorpius had taken Albus's toy to remember him by. Perhaps he was just a lamb to the slaughter, set up by Draco Malfoy with news of a false revolution in order to put Harry in a position where he could be executed without public outcry.

It was fiendishly clever, the perfect plan, and Harry had all but convinced himself it was true when Ginny walked into the room and sat down on the end of the bed. 

"The X facility is in lockdown," she said, reaching out to put her hand on Harry's. 

"I guess that makes sense," said Harry, frowning. "After all, I did escape."

"Lucius has charged Draco with treason, blaming him for your escape," she said, watching his face carefully to see if he took her meaning.

"Treason? That wouldn't be treason. I was there voluntarily anyway! How is leaving a facility treason?" asked Harry. He sat up, brows furrowed.

"He's saying that Draco set you free so you could speak against the Ministry in the paper. That you and I are conspiring with him to overthrow the government. He has a meeting with the Wizengamot. Hermione's trying to... trying to fix it, but she doesn't think she can keep him from being convicted of treason. They seem to be determined to have a scapegoat and Lucius Malfoy is pinning it all on his son," said Ginny. She moved closer to him, her dark eyes brimming with tears.

Tears for Draco. Or maybe for her and Harry. Harry didn't know. He still couldn't believe Lucius could be so cold. It shouldn't have surprised him of a Death Eater, but somehow it did. 

"So they're going to execute him?" Harry couldn't fathom Hermione allowing Draco, or anyone, to be executed. She was, after all, Chief Witch of the Wizengamot. She should have some sway over the 50-odd members. But then, since Theodore Nott, son of convicted Death Eater Thaddeus Nott, had taken over as Minister for Magic after Kingsley Shacklebolt's sudden retirement, the Ministry's cart seemed to have lost a wheel. 

She nodded and reached for him. He held her tightly, breath stolen by what was happening. His eyes were closed, so he didn't hear Narcissa enter the room, didn't know she was there until she spoke.

"Don't count him out yet," she said, her voice with an edge of practicality and cold resignation. "He is his father's son. He will find a way."

And I'm the one who ran, Harry thought bitterly, cursing himself for not forcing Draco to come with him. "We will find a way," he said, meeting Narcissa's icy stare. 

\--

 

Before the light had come out on the new day, Harry was up and dressed. The Aurors had a special way into the Ministry that he would be able to use. He knew he would be taking a risk, given that the Aurors were likely to be on the lookout for him, but he had to get into the Ministry. He had to be there for Draco's trial. He had to do something.

Casting a charm on himself to change his appearance, he Apparated to London and went through the rituals that would take him through the coves of a unused tube route that led to the closet at the back of the Auror bullpen. 

Harry hadn't expected anyone to be in. It was very early and generally the Aurors only kept regular day hours in office, days to catch up on paperwork. But there she was, Mabel Moody, sitting at her desk, feet up and twirling her wand. She'd paused, tilting her head towards the closet. Harry packed away from the crack in the door he was peering out from and held his breath. The problem was, Aurors could easily see through disguise charms. It worked fine for most witches and wizards, but Aurors were highly trained. 

"Potter?" she called, standing up in a smooth movement. 

He still really needed to work on his Occlumency.

Mabel set her wand down on her desk and took a step back from it. "I just want you to know that I'm not going to arrest you. None of us are. When they set up the warrant for your arrest, most of the Aurors here walked off the job. A few of us stayed around just to keep the peace. Or tried to keep the peace. This whole thing is really... well it's gotten out of hand. I hoped you'd come back."

Harry felt stupid standing behind the door, doubting one of his Aurors. He'd screened them all personally, knew them to be trustworthy and honest. Mabel he'd hired because she'd reminded him of Tonks, being from Hufflepuff house. But she definitely had the familial traits of distant relation Alastor Moody--one of those being a keen ability to sense what was going on around her. There was really no point in hiding behind the door. 

He stepped out with his hands up, the wand Draco gave him still dangling between his fingers. 

"I told you, you don't need to surrender," she said, rushing up to him unarmed. She gave him a huge hug. "We were so worried about you, sir. So worried that you'd vanished because someone had gotten to you and your wife."

"No, we had... help," he said, trying to remain sketchy. Harry knew that he was verging on absolute paranoia, but so much had changed so fast, he wasn't sure who to trust.

"Did you come for the trial, then?" she asked, releasing him and looking up into his eyes. Harry knew she didn't mean to scan him, it was just reflex for her and he was too slow.

She blushed and averted her eyes. "Oh. Well. Um. Does your wife know?"

"Yes, she knows," said Harry, giving her a warning look that said that she shouldn't press that matter further.

"Good. I mean. You know," she said, blushing again, her dark curls falling around her face to try and hide her expression. "But look, I don't think... I mean, they can't really execute Malfoy, can they?"

"I suppose that legally..." Harry started, trying not to let the anxiety enter his voice. He needed to keep his cool.

"No, I mean... the protests! The riots! You didn't know about that?" she asked. "Of course you didn't. You were in hiding," she answered herself. "After that article your wife wrote... well, they're calling themselves Potter People."

"Potter People?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head. It wasn't the most creative of campaign names, but it was terribly flattering. "But it's Dra--Malfoy's cause. I just came in at the..."

She waved her hand to cut him off. "Well that's what the opposition is calling the Potter People--Malfoy's Minions. It's too difficult to denigrate the name of our great hero. And frankly, it impressed a LOT of people that you went into X of your own accord in the first place. You're a hero, he's... well, to a lot of people, Malfoy still represents Death Eaters and what happened before."

"But... Nott's father was a..." Harry started.

"And they voted for him, I know. Things were going so well in the Wizarding World that no one had anything to rally against. Then there was the Big Muggle Threat. Everyone thought that they were finding out about us, that they were finding a means to attack us. Everyone voted for Nott because they believed that he had the experience and ability to mitigate the threat. And, well, I guess it worked out because we haven't been attacked..." said Mabel, her voice trailing off uncomfortably.

"Muggles never had any idea. We're out there every day as Aurors. You know that. I know that. There was never any reason to believe that the Muggles were a threat!" said Harry, still bitter that Arthur Weasley had lost to Nott in the election after Shacklebolt's exit. Particularly since the hardest slam against Arthur was that he spent time with and was pals with "former terrorist" Harry Potter. It didn't seem to matter that Harry Potter now worked for the Ministry. In the world of politics, it was those visceral, illogical low blows that counted the most.

"I don't know what we knew then," she said quietly, looking at the floor. 

Harry reached out and patted her shoulder. She looked up with tears in her eyes. 

"We'll find a way to fix it, Mabel. We will. We just need to start here--make a stand and keep this from happening again."

With Mabel's help, Harry ducked down the hall and into the cramped confines of the trial room. She sat in the box with him, helping to keep him concealed with the binding of two magics so that when magical enforcers came in to secure the location before the trial began, he was not observed. At least, they gave no sign of it if they did see him. Given what Mabel said about his staff's loyalty, he wondered if they might not be willfully ignoring him. The thought of them walking out on the Ministry, unwilling to arrest him choked him up as he thought about it. It was strange after spending all of that time in facility X and then on the run to believe that people actually did care. He'd been so cut off and the isolation was overwhelming.

He was heartened to know that the magical folk were rallying, that they heard his cry and were taking notice of how their liberties were being stripped away. He just hoped it wasn't too late for Draco.

The sun rising did nothing to brighten the dull stone room in which people slowly started to file into. Narcissa held Scorpius's hand as they walked into the courtroom. He wondered what she was going to do if Draco was set to be executed. Surely she wouldn't allow Scorpius to watch it. He was so frozen with that thought, he didn't notice how close Narcissa was to him until he felt her breath on his cheek. "My son is in the hall. Get him out of here."

The statement told him everything he needed to know. People could see him and worse than that, Draco evidently had no plan for escaping this trial. 

She walked away from the corner of the room where Harry was standing, rejoining Scorpius in their seats. Harry peered around the room, nothing all of the homemade robes and pins proclaming the wearers Potter People. Some held flags demanding to be free citizens, some had signs asking where the Muggle threat was. No one looked at him, or seemed to notice that he was there. He looked back at Narcissa who was turned around in her seat glaring at him.

Prompted by that glare as well as his own urgent need to get Draco out of the Ministry, he slipped out into the hall where one of his Aurors practically escorted him to Draco's room. He never said a word, but winked as Harry passed by.

In the cell he found Draco, seated on a wooden chair his arms and legs in chains. He was staring down at his lap and shaking his head at Hermione who sat on the other side of the table. "You don't understand, Malfoy. Nott 'relieved me of my duties' as Chief Witch of the Wizengamot. I can't help you. You have to do this! It's the only chance we have!" She pushed the flask filled with a mire of familiar looking and smelling goo in front of Draco.

Harry dropped his enchantments. "What is that for?"

Draco looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes dark, but he still managed to sneer. It had to be a Malfoy thing to look so pitiful and yet still haughty. "Oh, it's a really genius plan where I drink this potion," he said, nodding to the Polyjuice potion on the table, "and switch places with my son and escape."

"That's brilliant!" Harry said, stepping forward.

"That's what I said," said Hermione. "And it was no simple trick hunting down Polyjuice potion overnight." She looked as tired as Draco did, but she still hopped up and gave Harry a hug. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so, so sorry we sent you to that awful place. It was worse than I'd ever dreamed it would be. I just had to know for sure what it was like. I needed proof."

Harry hugged her back. "It's all right. I understand. I needed to see it, too. I just... I couldn't believe that it would be as bad as it is without seeing it."

"This is so touching. I think I'm going to cry," said Draco flatly. He sat back in his chair and eyed the Polyjuice potion before kicking the table so that the flask fell over and the potion dribbled over the chair. It rolled to the edge and stopped. As a final insult, Draco kicked the table leg once again, dropping the flask to the floor where it shattered, glimmering through the muck of the potion, ruined.

"What are you doing?" Harry shouted.

"I'm not posing as my son! I refuse to put him in that kind of danger! What if they arrest him?" Draco said, standing up as Harry moved Hermione aside to confront Draco. 

"He didn't do anything! What would they arrest him for?" Harry barked.

"What are they arresting you for? They'll cook up charges. Conspiracy. I don't know! I'm just not doing it. I'd rather die than burden my son with my guilt!" 

Harry stared at him for a long time, crossing his arms. There was little sound in the cell other than ragged breathing. Harry wanted to beat some sense into Draco, to get him to just run away, to do anything to spare his own life. Draco stared back at him, his cold eyes unrelenting. It was the truth. If the Ministry wanted to hurt Draco, hurt the Malfoy family, then going after Scorpius would be the way to do it. Narcissa was wrong about that. Draco was not his father's son in that regard. This time it was a pity, as it might cost Draco his life.

Harry looked at Hermione, his mind catching up with what he'd walked in on. "What you mean you were relieved of your duties?"

"Nott sent word this morning that He thought I should recuse myself from this case because of my connection to you. The rest of the Wizengamot refused to comply with allowing him to be the Chief Warlock, so he dismissed them all. It's just him standing in judgment of Malfoy," she said, looking helplessly at Harry.

"But that's okay, right? I mean, Nott's your friend, isn't he?" Harry asked Draco.

For a brief flash, Draco smiled in a way that bordered on mischievous and then he shrugged. "I don't know if you'd call us friends, exactly. I mean, we're of the same blood purity and were both good in potions, but I wouldn't call us close."

"He's been looking for reasons to depose me since he took office, Harry. He blames me for what happened to his father in the Department of Mysteries. He thinks it's my fault that his father was put away. He's never liked me," said Hermione. She pushed her hair back and Harry looked at Draco who appeared briefly amused with what she'd said. 

"What?" asked Harry.

"Oh, nothing," Draco said, looking smug.

"I don't think this is the time for you to play coy, Malfoy," said Harry. He slipped an arm around Hermione. She glared at Draco.

"I just think there's a simpler explanation for Nott's aversion to a..." Draco leaned forward and whispered nastily, "Mudblood."

"Why do I bother with you?" Hermione said. Harry frowned at Draco. 

"My undisguised charm? My aristocratic profile?" Draco sat up, turning his head this way and that, making model faces. "I'm sexy and you know it." 

Hermione glared at him and shook her head, "I've had enough. You want to die, then die. I tried." She stormed from the room, pulling Harry with her. He resisted. She looked at him impatiently and said, "You're wasting your time, Harry. You were right about him all of those years. He's just evil and impossible."

Harry nodded his agreement and then shrugged to say that he was going to stay and try anyway.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll try to give you as much time as I can, but you need to be out of here before the guards come for him."

Though Harry was pretty sure that no one was actually going to arrest him, he did realize that he had limited time. "Thanks, Hermione. Really. Even if he's too much of a prat to say so himself, I know he appreciates it."

"You can both sod off," said Draco. Harry expected him to be smiling but instead he was looking down at his feet. 

After giving reassurances to Hermione that he'd be careful, Harry finally got her out of the room and he sat on the table in front of Draco.

"Kinky man. Just trying to get her out of here so we can have one more go while I'm locked up?" asked Draco. His lips were smiling but his eyes looked anxious.

"No, Draco. We need to get you out of here. You really could die, you know," said Harry. 

Draco wrestled his legs up, the chains giving just enough so that he could spread them a shoulder's width apart. Balancing with his hands on the back of the seat and his arse on the edge, he manged to swing his legs up over Harry's head so that the chains bound Draco's legs around him. "Please, sir. I don't want to die a virgin!"

"You're not funny, Draco," said Harry. He pushed at Draco's legs, but Draco couldn't really move them if he wanted to. Instead, he tightened his legs around Harry and managed to heave himself up from the chair to Harry's lap. He nuzzled Harry's face lightly and then pressed kisses to each corner of his mouth and then under his eyes.

"All of this worry is giving you crow's feet, Potter. Don't be so tense."

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco so that he wouldn't fall, but once he was holding him, he clung tightly as if Draco was going to simply disappear from his grip. "I just... I don't want you to..."

"Potter, I have to. There's no other way for this to go. There has to be a huge outrage to get people's attention. There has to be a sacrificial lamb. I just want you to... I want you to promise that Scorpius doesn't see it. I don't want him to see my body. Not him or my mum. Get them out of there. If you do that for me, then I'll promise you haunt you forever." 

Pulling back, Harry cupped Draco's face, thumbs brushing over the dark circles under his eyes. "I don't want you to haunt me. I want you to be there with me. I want to... I want to know what this all means. I want to know how I feel, if it's just..."

"Just that you're obsessed with me since childhood?" asked Draco, his lips quirking into an ironic smile.

"No, you git. If anything, you were obsessed with me."

"Oh right. I forget that I followed you everywhere like a lonely pup sixth year. Oh no wait, that was you, wasn't it?" 

"You were doing bad... you were..." Harry stared at Draco, blinking in shock and blushing in spite of himself. Draco snickered and kissed his nose. 

"It's possible, maybe even probable, that you're a little gay, Potter. You don't need me around to experiment. There are loads of gay bars..." Draco started, cut off with Harry's frantic kiss.

Harry wanted to take away the words that Draco was going to say, wanted to remove any doubt from Draco's mind that what he felt was anything but sincere. He clung to him, pulling his hair to keep Draco's mouth open, to force the feelings on him, biting at his tongue and lip, trying to find some way in, some way that he might slip his skin and really touch inside of Draco so that he would know. He hadn't felt passion like this in... he didn't know how long it had been. 

By the time he finished, Draco's lips were puffy and his face flushed. 

"I don't want anyone else. I want you. I need you. I need you to stay here, to stay with me." said Harry. He stood, carrying Draco. 

Draco clung back to him and closed his eyes, hiding his face against Harry's neck. "What would you do if I died?"

"I'd start by killing your father," said Harry.

At this, Draco stiffened and pulled away from him, stretching out his arms in spite of Harry's clinging. "Promise me you won't. Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't kill my father, Potter."

"Why not? Why should you care if you're going to die?" asked Harry. He thought he knew, after all, he wouldn't want people to die after he'd been executed, especially not his family. Still, it stung to be left so impotent in the face of what he was realizing was a bigger loss than he couldn't anticipated given the few days they'd had together.

"Just don't... don't kill anyone. Not my father, not Nott. Leave it. It'll sort itself out."

Harry looked into Draco's eyes. They brooked no argument. Harry didn't know what it was that Draco had planned, but he saw now that there was a plan, at least. Just not one that included him living. "Stay with me, Draco."

Draco smiled weakly and then kissed Harry, pouring back into him as much need and emotion that Harry had put into his own kiss. He clung to Draco's frail body, pressing it as tightly against him as it could get. He was warm, but he was shivering and Harry could feel the deep sadness within Draco at what was about to happen. He wanted to make it all right, he wanted to cave in and have him one last time, but there was a soft knock at the door and Hermione stuck her face in. 

She blushed at what she saw, but made no further comment. "It's time."


End file.
